


In Another World

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11701449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Meredith has decided that Bethany needs to be punished. Cullen takes on the responsibility.





	In Another World

“Bethany.”

“Mmm...Cullen?” It took her a moment to get her bearings. “Why are you in my room?”

“I need you to come with me.” His voice was hoarse and urgent. “Something's happened. We have to get you out of here.”

“Out of here?” She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest even in the dark. “Where? What's going on?”

“Out of the Circle. Out of Kirkwall. I'll explain on the way.” His raw panic broke through the fog of sleep and she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Was she dreaming? Was this a desire demon, come to possess her? Why else would the stoic Knight-Captain be here in her quarters, offering to take her away from all this with a husky desperation in his voice?

It should be easy enough to find out. If it were truly a demon, he'd kiss her. He'd slide the gown up her thighs and bury his fingers between her legs. Bury his face between her breasts and use his hands to draw them to stiff, aching peaks. He'd lay her down on the narrow cot and then tenderly at first, mindful of her maidenhood, he'd ease his way inside...

“Hurry,” he rasped and she jolted out of her dream.

“But why, Cullen?” This wasn't like him. He was reserved, grim even, polite almost to a fault. The stone floor was chilly beneath her feet. “I need to find a robe. And boots.”

“There's no time. Meredith’s gone mad. She's convinced your sister is plotting against her, and she intends to make an example of you.”

“Of me?” She stumbled as he shepherded her out into the corridor. “But I haven't done anything!”

“I know, love, I know.” He was distracted, gripping her arm tight as his eyes scanned the shadows, but the word made her cunt clench in longing. They hadn't exchanged so much as a kiss, though Maker knew he'd fucked her with his eyes often enough, flushing with shame every time.

If she was in as much danger as he said, now wasn't the time to think about her nakedness beneath her thin nightgown, how easy it would be to take his hand and slide it under the loose neckline until those calloused fingers grasped her breast.

“Someone's coming.” He gripped her chin, forcing her to look into his amber eyes. “I can't save you, Bethany.” His voice was ragged with a despair that broke her heart. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” she whispered, and his eyes closed in pain.

“I pray you do not come to regret that trust.”

Two templars rounded the corner, stopping in confusion to find the Knight-Captain gripping the young mage by her arms. Meredith herself brought up the rear, her eyes like chipped ice.

“Knight-Commander.” Cullen raised a fist to his breastplate, the other hand still holding her bruisingly tight. “I have her.”

“So I see.” Meredith's gaze raked over Bethany before dismissing her. “I applaud your initiative, Cullen. Come then, the men are assembled.”

They marched her to the wing housing the Templar quarters, pausing outside the door to the long common room.

“A moment, Knight-Commander.” Meredith turned to glare at Cullen. “If I may...what are your plans for the...er, the prisoner?”

She made a curt gesture, and the two of them drew aside. There was a muttered conversation, through which glances were thrown in Bethany’s direction and Cullen spoke low and urgently. Finally Meredith looked at Bethany, a cruel smile spreading across her face. She nodded, pleased.

“Let me explain some things to the mage.” Cullen’s voice was back to that of the brisk and efficient Knight-Captain. “I'll join you in a minute.”

“Very well.” Meredith spared a last dispassionate look for Bethany. “Listen to Cullen, girl. You will be punished, but things will go easier for you if you cooperate.”

The moment they were alone, Cullen’s fingers gripped her shoulders hard. “I’m sorry, Bethany. I’m sorry for what I must do.”

“What is it?” Was she to be made Tranquil? Fear clenched her throat, and blood roared in her ears so loudly that she wasn’t sure she had heard him right when he next spoke.

“I’m sorry, you have to what?”

“I told Meredith I would rape you.”

“Rape...m-me? I don’t understand.”

“She’s intent on punishing you. Punishing your sister through you. She had...something else in mind, but I convinced her this would be worse.” His face clouded with shame. “But I hope, Bethany...I hope if it’s me, I can at least keep them from hurting you. Any more than I have to. I’m sorry,” he said again, choking on the words. “When I asked you to trust me, you could not have known…”

This Maker-cursed place, was there anyone it didn’t ruin? She squeezed his hand. “I do trust you, Cullen. If this is what has to happen, I would rather it was you. I’m sorry you have to go through this for me.”

“Maker’s…” he shook his head violently. “Don’t you dare apologise to me. This is monstrous, whatever justification I put on it.”

“It doesn’t have to be so bad.” Bethany gave him a hopeful smile. “Who knows, in another world…”

His jaw dropped, then his lips were crushing against hers, kissing her breathless. “I’m sorry,” he said a last time before dragging her through the door.

 

Templars lined the walls, surly at being dragged from their beds but beginning to stir with a restless excitement. Cullen saw them brighten with interest when they saw him bring in the mage, her hair still tousled from sleep and the thin gown doing little to hide her shapely body.

“The Champion’s sister,” he heard muttered.

“Apostate bitch.” Six years serving dutifully in the Circle, and that was all they saw when they looked at her.

“Think we’ll get a piece of that?”

“We will if she’s Tranquil.”

Jaw clenched, he manhandled her to the front of the room where Meredith stood before a long table, hoping the Knight-Commander mistook the target of his rage.

“Quiet,” she snapped, and the room fell silent. Her icy gaze swept over the assembled crowd. “These are dire times. Abominations are rampant in the streets of Kirkwall. Blood mages plot against us. This mage’s sister, the Champion of Kirkwall - “ there was a sneer in her voice at the title - “has betrayed our faith, aiding the cause of apostates and rebels. Templars, your brothers and sisters, have been murdered. And this woman - “ pointing to Bethany - “after we cared for her and gave her liberties she did not deserve as an apostate, has been caught consorting with blood mages in broad daylight.”

“That’s not true, I was kidn- “ 

With a silent apology, Cullen backhanded her across the face. She fell silent, her pink tongue darting out to taste the blood on her split lip. Their eyes met in shared understanding, a forgiveness in hers that tore his soul to shreds.

“Even our own ranks have been corrupted!  _ It will not do.” _ Meredith’s voice was the rasp of steel on steel, and the look she gave Bethany chilled Cullen to the bone. “An example must be made. The Champion will learn that her actions have consequences.”

There was a muffled cheer from the ranks, cries of “Ferelden whore!” and “Make the bitch pay!”

“Knight-Captain Cullen.” Meredith stepped aside. “Show the men how we deal with traitors.”

_ Maker forgive me. _ He forced his hands not to shake as he unbuckled his gauntlets and breastplate. The templars waiting in hushed anticipation. Finally he stood before them in breeches and padded undertunic, only his boots remaining of his heavy plate.

Now for Bethany. If only her eyes were not so wide, so trusting. The gown rent easily beneath his fingers, her full breasts springing free, and the men cheered. A rough jerk at the shoulders and the ruined garment fell to the floor at her feet. She stood frozen, seemingly unsure whether she would be punished for trying to cover herself.

“Rope,” he barked. “Something to tie her hands.”

Somebody pressed a leather thong into his outstretched hand.  _ I’m sorry, Bethany.  _ Tying her hands in front at least gave the illusion of modesty, partially covering her breasts and sex from their hungry gaze. Not too tight, not enough to hurt her, but it had to be realistic.

“On the table.” She shuffled back then stopped, unable to lift herself with her hands bound. He lifted her by the waist, not gently, and deposited her on the wood before reaching for his belt.

“Is he going to whip her?” someone muttered.

“I don’t think that’s what he’s got in mind.” Cullen wished he recognised the voice, that later he might pound the man’s face to a pulp for the excitement he heard there.

“Lie back,” he growled, then with his voice pitched low for her ears alone, “forgive me.”

He should not be as hard as he was. Everything about this was wrong. He had tortured himself for years with the image of her naked, her milky breasts rising and falling with her breath, her long legs parted for him. But not like this. Not with an audience baying for her blood, not with her hands bound, her lip beginning to swell where he had struck her. In his dreams she trembled with desire, not fear. But Maker, the way her eyes widened when he used his spit to lubricate the head of his cock, the way her breath hitched when he pressed it to her entrance…

_ You’re not making love to her, man, _ he chided himself.  _ Just get the job done, and make it look real enough to satisfy them. _

With that in mind, he pushed inside her.

 

She didn’t have to feign her scream of anguish as his cock tore her apart. When she opened her eyes, she saw his face slack with horror. He didn’t know. Why would he? Marian Hawke wasn’t shy about who she bedded, why should her sister be any different? She tried to show forgiveness in her eyes, tried to convey anything but the pain and humiliation she felt.

It burned, his cock rammed right inside her and her cunt stretching too slowly to accommodate it. He waited as long as he could before thrusting again, his hands gripping her thighs like they were all that kept him upright.

In another world...she allowed herself to daydream. Bethany Hawke, the youngest daughter of House Amell. When she first saw Cullen in the Gallows square, she would have smiled at him instead of avoiding his gaze, fearful of being recognised as an apostate. They would talk of home, of Ferelden. He would have visited Gamlen’s dark hovel in Lowtown, not to take her away but to ask her mother permission to court her, and Leandra would have been delighted. Then Marian would have returned from the Deep Roads and elevated them all into high society. She would have been invited to dinners and balls, even if the prospect bored her. Younger sons and widowers would have courted her, but she would turn them away, waiting for those precious moments when Cullen was off duty so they could stroll together through Hightown. Marian would like him, if they weren’t forced on to opposing sides. Once you got past that stiff exterior, there was a self-deprecating humour her sister would appreciate.

His eyes were squeezed shut now, sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he fucked her for the gathered crowd. In that other world, he would have lain her down in soft sheets and kissed her all over, she would have sighed his name as his lips drew at her breasts, run her fingers through his tousled curls as he lapped at her cunt. In another world…

She cried, not for her own abused body but for that girl who would never know the love she could have had, that man who was better than the brutality they had forced upon him.

 

Maker help him, she was wet. He snuck a look at her, her tear-stained face raised to the vaulted ceiling, her full breasts swaying with each thrust. How he wanted to take those breasts in his hands, to feel their soft weight, to taste those pink nipples. To his disgust, he groaned.

“Stop.” At Meredith’s command he stuttered to a halt, his shaft still buried deep in Bethany. “Let them see her,” she snapped. “She should look in their faces.”

Bethany whimpered when he pulled out, his face flushed with shame at the sight of the blood mingled with her juices on his cock. Unsure what to do, she lay still and pressed her knees together, hiding her shamefully wet cunt.

“Up.” He helped her sit, then lowered her feet to the floor, her elbows resting on the table with her hands still bound. 

“Smite me,” she whispered.

“What? No.” 

“Please. They won’t believe it if you don’t.” Her eyes scanned the crowd in fear. “You have to do something. Make it rougher. They won’t be satisfied if you don’t hurt me.”

“I did hurt you,” he muttered.

“Not enough.”

He pulled her back hard onto his cock and she cried out, whether in pleasure or pain he couldn’t tell. Her head fell forward, hair shielding her face so they couldn’t see her lips move.

“Stop thinking of me as me. It doesn’t help.” Easy for her to say, when he had the sweet herbal smell of her hair in his nostrils, her soft skin warm under his hands. “Just use me, Cullen. Do whatever you have to to make it real.”

“Head up, bitch.” This time his voice was loud enough to be overheard, his fist gripping her hair to pull her head back. “These are the men who protect you. The men your whore sister would see killed.” He saw Meredith smile in grim satisfaction. Pulling almost all the way out, he slammed forward hard enough to lift her onto her toes. “Look at them.”

Then he looked too, and saw the burning anger in their eyes. They were here to see a mage suffer. He tightened his grip on her hair, made sure the table dug into her thighs as he fucked her. Then, feeling sick to his stomach, he summoned his smite ability.

The power rolled off him in a wave and she went limp in his arms. The templars grinned and nudged each other. He hadn’t just cut off her magic, he’d blinded, deafened and disoriented her as effectively as if he’d struck her over the head. Perhaps it was better this way, but feeling her body soft and pliant against his made him rage at her helplessness.

“Wake up,” he grunted, but when he released her hair her head lolled forward. He pulled it back again, slapped her face. “Wake up, I said.” 

It wouldn’t satisfy them for long, seeing him fuck an unconscious woman. Cullen pinched the underside of her breast, hard enough to bruise. Finally he twisted her nipple cruelly and she gasped. “Cullen?” she mumbled.

“Quiet.” Enough, surely they’d seen enough. He picked up pace, dragging her back against him as he bucked his hips harder and harder. “You’re so brave, Bethany,” he muttered in her ear. Let them wonder, let them assume he was calling her bitch, slut, whore. “So good. I’ll never hurt you again, I promise.” She was so slick now, gripping his cock like a fist. He grabbed her full breasts, hoisting the milky flesh up for them all to get a better look, and improbably he felt her cunt quiver and clench around him. “That’s right.” Louder now, so they could hear. “Beg. Beg for me to come in you, mage whore.”

“Please,” she cried. “Please, I’m sorry.” Tears ran down her face. “Please.”

He pushed her face down to the table and gripped her shoulders, driving her back onto his cock. She shuddered again, and despite the circumstances it was the most incredible feeling, sweet Bethany Hawke rippling on the end of his cock. Feeling his end approaching he rutted into her like an animal, finally erupting inside her with a roar of fury. 

It was over, thank the Maker it was over. He slipped from her naked body, the shame of what he’d done branded on his soul. The room had fallen silent.

Cullen tucked his limp cock back into his trousers before addressing Meredith.

“I’d say she’s learned her lesson for now, Knight-Commander.” He saluted. “With your permission, may I take Miss Hawke to the infirmary?”

Meredith’s lips thinned, and for a long moment he was afraid she’d hand Bethany over to the crowd, leave her at their mercy until she was broken beyond repair. Finally she gave a curt nod.

“Very well. Tell them not to heal the bruises. And have them give her a potion.” She eyed the girl’s limp form with disgust. “The last thing we need is more mages.”

Many Templars couldn’t meet his eye as he carried Bethany from the hall, good soldiers who now doubted his command. Still more cheered him and clapped him on the back. Bethany was perfectly still in his arms, her hands still bound and his seed leaking out of her. 

He waited until she was safely tucked away in the infirmary, until the accusing eyes of the healers looked elsewhere, before emptying the contents of his stomach into a bucket.

 

“Cullen?” Bethany was still groggy and her abdomen wracked with cramps from the potion they’d made her drink. A warm hand gripped hers.

“I’m here.” He looked as if the night had aged him five years, lines of sadness around his amber eyes, and when her hand moved in his he pulled away, his face darkening.

“Am I so repulsive now?” she asked sadly.

Cullen buried his face in his hands, making a noise somewhere between a groan and a sob. “Not you, Bethany.”

“Look at me,” she insisted, and he raised bleary eyes to hers. “What would she have done, if you didn’t…?”

“The lash.” He glanced away. “Until the flesh came away from your back, and more. Then you’d have been denied healing. Mages have been known to die up to weeks later, if infection sets in.”

“You saved me, Cullen.”

“Please don’t. I should have done more. I shouldn’t have let them touch you.”

“And what then?” It took an effort to smile. “They’d have killed you, and I’d still have got the lash. Or worse. They’d probably think I was controlling you somehow. Why else would the Knight-Captain risk himself for an apostate?”

Cullen’s laugh was bitter. “I’d like to say because it was the right thing to do, but Maker knows I’ve bypassed enough opportunities to do the right thing.”

“Why, then?” she asked, half afraid of the answer.

“Perhaps you’ll return the favour, someday.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to, if my sister hears about it.” She had to get word to Marian, to explain it somehow. Maker, she’d kill him if she heard, and there could be no doubt Meredith intended her to hear.

He stood. “Tell me you’ll be alright.”

“I will.” She could feel her eyes start to drift shut again. “Cullen...if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

 

That night, Kirkwall exploded.

 

Once more Cullen woke her, but this time everyone was fleeing. “The Right of Annulment,” he said and she was instantly wide awake. “Find your sister, she’ll keep you safe.”

“What about you?”

“I have to see this through.”

She didn’t ask, couldn’t ask, what that meant. But hours later she offered a silent prayer to find him fighting by her side.

 

“You’re alive.” Cullen traced her face with shaking fingers. “I wasn’t sure there was any way we’d both end up alive.”

In the chaos following the battle there’d been hundreds of wounded, needing triage and healing. “Let the Templars take care of themselves,” Marian had snapped. “There’d be more healers about if they hadn’t killed half the Circle.” But Bethany couldn’t turn away anyone with a real need, and she’d spent hours on her feet in the makeshift  infirmary before Cullen found her.

“I should have known I’d find you here. Still putting everyone before yourself.”

“They need me, Cullen.” She swayed with exhaustion and he caught her arm. The touch was still enough to send a jolt of longing through her body.

“Come, you should rest.”

He shepherded her to the small tent they had erected in the Gallows courtyard, crowded with stacks of bandages and healing herbs. Bethany sank gratefully into a chair, the armoured Templar lowering himself awkwardly to kneel before her.

“How are you holding up?” His gauntleted hands rested on her knees and she covered them with her own.

He raised his face, and his eyes were dark with pain. “Maker's breath, Bethany! How can you be concerned for me after everything that's happened? All this death, and destruction, and what I did to you - oh Maker, what I did to you…”

Cullen turned his face away in shame as his shoulders shook with anguished grief. She reached for him, and reluctantly he let her pull his head down into her lap, stroking his hair like she was soothing a child with a skinned knee.

“It's not your fault,” she murmured. “You didn't do this. Shh, Cullen, shh.”

“You don't understand,” he choked out. “What I did...Maker help me, a part of me liked it!”

“It wasn't all bad,” she reflected, and he looked at her in shock. “I mean it's not how I imagined it, but…” She shrugged.

“You...imagined it?”

“You and I? For years. Maybe from the first time I saw you.” Her laugh held no bitterness. “Even when you said mages couldn't be treated like people.”

He hung his head in shame. “Forgive me, Bethany. I've been a fool. A monster. It shouldn't have taken a beautiful face to show me that mages could be deserving of better. I knew it once, but I lost sight…”

“Beautiful?” With a start, she realised her fingers were still buried in his hair. But instead of pulling back she found herself stroking his scalp with her thumb and watching with fascination as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Bethany…” he groaned.

“I still want you,” she whispered, although the confession made her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She had never been so forward. But what boundaries could be left between them now? He'd seen every inch of her body exposed, had been buried inside her and through all the shame and the pain and the fear she'd still come for him.

Now it was just the two of them...the thought made her breath hitch, her hips moving restlessly in the seat. She saw his pupils widen with desire.

“Bethany,” he repeated, his hands sliding up her thighs, drawing up the heavy fabric of her gown to expose her calves. Slowly, reverently, he pushed the garment up almost to her waist, glancing back for her permission before pressing a fluttering kiss to the inside of each of her creamy thighs.

Bethany sighed, her head falling back. Arousal pooled between her legs, and she wondered if he could smell it. His thumbs hooked in her smallclothes and her breath quickened in anticipation…

_ “Cullen!” _

It was almost a shriek, filled with murderous rage. They froze and it came again.  _ “Cullen! Where are you? Come out and face me!” _

He didn't get the chance. Hawke burst into the tent, taking in the scene with utter disbelief on her face. 

“Get the  _ fuck _ away from my sister.” He all but threw himself back, scrambling to his feet and leaving Bethany to straighten her robes. “Did you think I wouldn't hear? You should be halfway to Seheron by now. And instead I find you here, trying to have your filthy way with her again.” Marian’s voice was low and dangerous. “Here I thought Meredith was the enemy. I'm going to enjoy killing you, Cullen.” Her daggers flashed.

“No!” Bethany leapt to her feet, interposing herself between her sister and Cullen. “Don’t do this, sister!”

“Bethany, even you can’t defend him.” Hawke’s blue eyes glittered with anger. “I know what he did to you - “

“He had to!” she cried.

Her sister pinched the bridge of her nose, a pained expression on her face. “Is that what he told you? He  _ had  _ to?” She sneered at Cullen. “What sick justification did you give her, you fucking worm?”

Cullen was silent, and she realised his guilt alone would keep him from defending himself.

“They wanted my blood.” She spoke as calmly as she could, trying to talk Marian down from the fury that gripped her. “You weren’t there, sister. They were so angry, and frightened...it seemed like they would have torn me apart with their bare hands if they had the chance. If Cullen hadn’t intervened they were going to lash me half to death, and leave me without healing.”

“No.” Cullen’s voice was little more than a croak, and both sisters turned to him in surprise. He turned anguished eyes to Bethany. “They wouldn’t have left you. If you’d survived you would have been made Tranquil. But in between...” He closed his eyes.

“These are the punishments you oversaw?” Hawke’s fingers were still tight around the hilts of her daggers.

“No - I admit I supervised the lashings, under Meredith’s orders.” He rubbed at his eyes as if to drive away the memory. “But I didn’t authorise what came next. There was an apprentice...he was found to be working with the mage underground. The last I saw him he was being led away to the infirmary to recover, or so I thought. They left him - “ his voice cracked, and he took a moment to regain his composure. “He was strung up by his wrists in the library, beaten and violated, the wounds on his back still open. I can only assume they left him there to send a message to the other mages, but we found him and cut him down before they saw.” Bethany saw his eyes flicker to hers in silent apology. “But not before his body gave out. That was the worst I saw, but not the only such crime.”

“And what did you do about it?” Hawke spat, and he glanced at the floor rather than meet their eyes.

“Beyond forbidding it in general terms, nothing. Meredith would not allow me to investigate. The best I could do was supervise more closely, curb as many...excesses as I could.”

Bethany had the uncomfortable feeling that it was her body they imagined then, hanging naked and lifeless, blood and seed caking her legs. “Enough,” she choked. “I don’t want to hear any more. I’m alive because of him, don’t you see? I’m not Tranquil. I’m not hurt.”

Her sister stared at her bruised and swollen lip. “Not hurt? Did he do that? And what in the Maker-loving fuck did I just walk in on?” She wheeled on Cullen again. “Once wasn’t enough for you? You had to get her alone so you could paw her all over again?”

“Stop, Marian!” Bethany cried. “It wasn’t what it looked like. I mean, it was...I love him.”

Two faces turned to her, incredulous. Hawke finally broke the silence, sheathing her daggers and taking Bethany’s arm in a firm grip.

“No you do not,” she said flatly. “You - “ pointing a furious finger at Cullen - “don’t move. I’m taking my sister home.”

“She’s a circle mage,” he protested. “You can’t - “

“Don’t test me now, Cullen.” She made his name sound like the direst of insults. “Not twenty-four hours have passed since your Circle tried to kill every mage under its so-called protection, and damn near succeeded. If you think I’m letting you take her back to that place tonight you’re as crazy as Meredith. After what you’ve done to her I’d burn this city to the ground before I see her in another Circle.”

It was an unfortunate choice of words, with the ashes of the Chantry still floating down upon them. But Cullen was wise enough not to protest.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Bethany promised, adding when Hawke glared at her, “to tend the wounded.”

He bowed. “Miss Hawke,” and curtly, “Champion.”

Then she was whisked from the tent.

 

She’d never been to the Amell mansion, at least not since her sister had gotten in back from the slavers that Gamlen had sold it to. There was little chance to do much but stare about her in awe before fatigue took over and she begged leave to go to bed.

Conversation drifted from downstairs, Hawke’s voice occasionally raised in anger on words such as  _ insane, rapist, sick.  _ Bethany sighed in the darkness.

_ I love him. _ She hadn't realised it was true until she said it, and then she couldn't take it back. And he'd looked at her with such shock. She wished she'd had a chance to talk to him about it. Even more, she wished they hadn't been interrupted before he'd had a chance to pull her smallclothes down and bury his mouth between her thighs.

With that last thought on her mind, she drifted off to sleep.

 

In the morning she wrapped herself in a borrowed gown, stumbling downstairs in search of breakfast.

Her sister was nowhere to be seen, but Varric was perched at the kitchen table looking just the same as when she'd seen him last, if a little careworn. Given the events of the past two days she could understand.

A grin broke over his roguish face. “Welcome home, Sunshine!” He speared some cheese with a dagger and slapped it on a slice of bread.

“Where’s Marian?” She accepted the food with a shy smile.

“City’s got a lot of call for a Champion right now. She’s sent the staff away until things calm down, so she wanted someone here when you woke up.”

“It's good to see you, Varric.”

“So…” He leaned back, crossing his arms. “I hear the Hawke family has a new rebel.”

Bethany groaned. “I’d rather not talk about it, Varric.”

“Just be careful, OK Sunshine? You might think he looks good in uniform, but don’t forget he was following orders right up until Meredith was too crazy to ignore. He’d have you back in the Gallows in a heartbeat if he gets the chance.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said nonchalantly.

“What’s on the agenda for your first day of freedom, then?”

“Well, I…” She blushed. “I’m going back to the Gallows.”

“Sunshine!”

“Marian knows,” she said in a rush. “I’m going back to help with the wounded. I’ll be back later.”

He shook his head. “I hope that’s true.”

 

She bathed and dressed in some of her old clothes that Hawke had kept in storage. “For when you came home,” she’d said, before enveloping Bethany in a bone-crushing hug. They didn’t cover her bruises as well as her Circle robes, but today in Kirkwall nobody would look twice at a few bruises.

In the Gallows, the severely injured were laid out in rows in the courtyard, mages, templars and civilians alike. The only area of ground left bare was around Meredith’s remains, as imposing in death as she had been in life. Cleanup crews worked around the injured and Bethany caught a glimpse of Cullen once or twice throughout the morning, supervising the disassembly of the great statues that now littered the ground like stone corpses.

It wasn’t until the afternoon that he approached her, halting a few steps away.

“Miss Hawke.” He bowed stiffly. “I hoped you might find some time to speak with me, when your duties allow.”

“Of course.” She saw his eyes land on her bruised shoulders before darting away.

“You can find me in the Knight-Commander’s office.” As if unsure what to do next, he bowed again. “Good day.”

The apprentice healers looked at her curiously, and she donned a mask of brisk professionalism. “We need more burn salve. And see if you can find some clean bandages. Find the guard-captain and ask if she can spare any men to fetch water for the patients.” She knuckled the small of her back, sore from leaning over the injured. “You should have enough healers for now to keep things under control - I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

It was a strange feeling, passing under the great portcullis leading back into the Gallows. The last time she was here they had fought their way through Templars and abominations alike, and the stone of the courtyard was scorched in parts, bloodstained in others. Her legs felt heavy as she ascended the stairs.

She found him where he said he would be, standing behind Meredith’s desk with his back to the door. He had removed his gauntlets and breastplate and his shoulders were rounded with fatigue, but when he heard her enter he straightened and turned, relief and apprehension warring in his eyes.

“Miss Hawke,” he said again, then, “Bethany. Would you mind closing the door? That is, if…”

Bethany smiled, pulling the heavy door shut behind her. “I’m not afraid of you, Cullen.”

“Are you sure?” He collapsed into his chair. “I’m not sure I don’t fear myself, lately. You have more cause than anyone.”

“I told you.” Cullen looked startled as she closed the distance between them, taking him firmly by the shoulders. “I do not hold it against you. I hate that you were forced to do what you did. I hate this strangeness it’s created between us. But I could never hate you.”

She gasped as she was pulled into his lap, his face level with hers. “You said you loved me.” His low, rough voice sent a jolt of warmth straight to her core.

“I do.”

Was it possible they had never kissed before? His lips dragged over hers, his arms encircling her waist. She felt the flicker of his tongue against her mouth and parted her lips eagerly, drunk on the feel of him, on the rasp of his stubble and his soft, warm lips moving on hers. Her arms entwined around his neck, drawing him closer.

“Bethany,” he groaned and emboldened, she took his lower lip gently between her teeth. With an animal growl he grasped the back of her neck, plundering her mouth with long sweeps of his tongue. She felt his fingers loosening the knot of her kerchief then the fabric was pulled away, replaced with his hungry lips.

Oh Maker, it was too much but somehow she needed more. She pulled at the stays holding her blouse in place and then tugged her bodice down, her breasts spilling into his eager hands.

“Wait,” he gasped. “This is…” He drew back, tracing the yellowing bruise on the underside of her breast with shaking fingers. “Why didn’t you heal this? I did this to you.”

Suddenly self-conscious, she blushed. “I know. It was...a reminder, I suppose.”

Cullen shook his head. “You wanted a reminder? Of how I brutalised you?”

“No!” She clasped his hand, holding it to her breast. “Of you.”

He buried his head between her breasts, and she felt the wetness on his cheeks. “Everything between us is soiled. Corrupted, by what I did.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” She pressed a kiss to his golden curls. “Just be with me now. We can forget all that. Look,” a glow built beneath her hand, “It’s gone.”

He looked in wonder at the pale curve of her breast, unmarked by bruising. Again his fingers traced over her skin, but this time they travelled upwards, just brushing her nipple and sending a sharp current of need through her body. She was suddenly aware of the rapid pace of her breath, and he heard it too, circling her nipple with a rough fingertip and watching in awe as the pink nub tightened and hardened.

“May I…?”

“Please,” she gasped, and his lips closed over her breast, gently nibbling and sucking at one nipple before turning his attentions to the other. When he worried gently at it with his teeth she keened, throwing her head back to thrust her breasts upwards. He squeezed them together, gathering as much of the firm flesh as he could into his hands while his mouth continued to tease at her stiff nipples.

A shift in his weight, and his thigh slipped between hers. With a mind of their own her hips began to rock against him, friction building to an unbearable tension.

“Cullen,” she panted. “I need…”

“I know what you need.”

He lifted her onto the desk, tugging off each of her boots in turn. Then his lips were on hers again as his fingers worked frantically at the laces of her leggings. The next thing she knew there was cool wood beneath her thighs and her knees were spread wide, baring her cunt to his scrutiny.

“Please,” she repeated, and when his tongue ran up her soaked slit her hips lifted from the desk, a cry of shocked pleasure falling from her lips. She invoked his name, the Maker’s name, curses she’d only heard on the roughest nights in the Hanged Man. His thumbs pushed her folds apart as his tongue delved deep inside her, drawing out her moisture to coat the length of her channel up towards the tender nub resting above her sex. 

There he teased, flicking his tongue against the hood, tracing lazy circles that stopped just shy of where she needed him. She arched, quivered, panted for breath, unable to keep her hips from bucking against him but each time he drew back, denying her release.

“Please,” she wailed.

Cullen drew back far enough to see her face, deliberately holding eye contact as he thrust his fingers into her wet sheath. “Is this what you need, love?” At her urging he fingered her faster, harder, pumping his fingers in and out as a third crowded in to join them. Finally he bent his face between her thighs again, his tongue sweeping slow and hard against her clit as his fingers fucked her until every nerve in her body seemed to shatter.

“I love you,” she heard herself crying as if from far away. “Fuck, I love you.”

Then she was crushed in his arms, his face slick with her arousal as he kissed her hungrily. “I love you.” Clutching at her face, her breasts, her waist, as if he might slip away and drown if his hands were not full of her. “Beth.” Sloppy kisses down her neck and collarbone. “Maker, I love you.”

“Cullen…” Her hand found his erection, straining tight against his breeches. He groaned, bucking against her hand as she stroked him. “Let me…” She didn’t quite know what, only that her hand was dipping below his waistband, her fingers wrapping tight around his pulsing shaft. She slid her hand up and down, marvelling at the softness of the skin moving over his hard length. His control was fraying now, his hips all but rutting into her hand.

“Maker, Bethany, I can’t…” He gripped her wrist, stilling the movement of her fingers. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

He helped her untie his padded undertunic and drag his shirt over his head, waiting breathless in the chair while she stripped the remainder of her clothing away until she stood before him perfectly naked. She tugged his breeches down, biting her lip when his cock sprang free, moisture already leaking from the tip.

“Is this really what you want, Bethany?” After everything, he was still uncertain. She graced him with a smile, straddling his lap and lowering herself onto his cock, letting him see it disappear slowly into her body. Finally she sank her hips down, sheathing him with a soft moan.

“You feel…” He shook his head, lost for words.

Tight, was what she felt, but not uncomfortably so. Wet enough that his cock slid slickly inside her when she rolled her hips, the friction causing a fresh rush of moisture into her channel. He was still at first, watching in awe as her cunt swallowed him, and as the base of his cock emerged shining with her juices. Then his hips started to buck against hers, picking up pace until he was lifting her up and down on his cock, her full breasts bouncing, breath coming in high gasps as he slammed into her at just the right angle. Her hands clutched the back of his neck, his open mouth inches from her own, their ragged breath mingling. She felt her cunt ripple and clench around him, and that was enough for the rhythm of his thrusts to jerk and stutter, sending another climax through her body along with the warm spurt of his seed.

“Fuck.” Their skin was slick with sweat, she could taste it on him when she pressed her lips to his shoulder. “Oh, Bethany, I never...in my wildest dreams, I didn’t know it could be like this with you.”

She wanted to never move, to keep his rough cheeks prickling her breasts, his cock still nestled inside her. But finally he stirred, and reluctantly she pulled away, his spend trickling warm down her thighs.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “I called you in here for a purpose, believe it or not.” His face grew serious as he retrieved his breeches and shirt, dressing with military efficiency. “Here.” He wet a cloth in a nearby washbasin and politely averted his eyes as she cleaned herself.

“What was it?” she asked when she was half dressed, pulling the supple leather leggings up over her thighs.

“We’ve had word - Templar reinforcements are coming. They should arrive in the next few days.”

Bethany’s heart sank. “And what does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But I’d be surprised if they didn’t round up any mages free about the place and bring them back to the Circle. The Rite of Annulment won’t be carried out - Meredith didn’t have sufficient cause - but it may still be brutal.”

She waited for him to say it. She’d have to come back to the Circle. Say goodbye once more to her friends and family. If she went willingly he could vouch for her good behaviour, make it as easy as possible.

Instead he gripped her shoulders, his amber eyes shining with intensity. “You should go. Run as fast and far as you can. Stay off the main roads and keep your head down.”

“But my sister…” she protested.

“She should go too. The men who are coming don’t know anything of the Champion of Kirkwall, only an upstart who aided apostates, whose apostate lover killed the Revered Mother and hundreds more.” His face twisted with anger. “If he’s still about, it would be best that he disappear too. Forever. Some crimes will not be forgiven.” Then he softened again. “But you...the world will change, after this. I don’t know what shape it will take. Perhaps one day we might meet again. Perhaps you’ll even be free? Who knows, it might be a fantasy.”

She laid a soft hand on his cheek. “In another world…”

“Go, Bethany.” He laid his hand over hers. “The injured will manage without you. Take your sister, take your friends. Get out of Kirkwall.”

Their final kiss was savage, a desperate clash of lips and tongue and teeth. “Thank you Cullen,” she whispered. “Thank you for saving me.”

She barely caught his last words as she slipped out the door.

“Thank you for saving me, Bethany.”


End file.
